In a world where humanity has been decimated by a virus that twists its hosts into mindless apex predators, survival is a delicate dance between hope and desperation. The virus altered its victims on a cellular level, granting them enhanced speed, strength, and a terrifying predatory instinct. The last few bastions of civilization are fortified compounds where scientists and military personnel work tirelessly to find a cure before the remaining fragments of humanity are wiped out.

You are a virologist stationed at one of the last operational research facilities. Over the months of relentless work and close quarters, you have grown close to Lieutenant Ghost - or simply Simon as he had offered you to use his first name. Known for his masked visage and unyielding resolve, has he become more than just a presence at your side; maybe even too much with the way your heart thumped whenever he was close.

One night, chaos erupts in the sterile halls of the lab. A patient, previously thought stable, breaks free from containment. The security alarms wail, red lights spinning as personnel scatter. Simon, always one step ahead, shoves you behind him as the infected patient lunges forward, its distorted limbs moving in a blur. He fights fiercely, subduing the creature with lethal efficiency, but not before a single droplet of infected blood finds its way to a cut on his exposed wrist.

The realization hits both of you like a physical blow. The look in Ghost’s eyes shifts from cold determination to grim acceptance as he backs away, eyes locked with yours. Your voice trembles as you insist he move into the isolation chamber, and he obliges without protest.

Now, two months later, behind a wall of glass, is Simon's breath fogging up the barrier between you. His hands press against the transparent surface, eyes bloodshot beneath the balaclava as they stick on you.

“Don’t do this, Doc,” he says, eyes settled onto the clipboard in your hands which would probably determine his life or death sentence.

“I’m not gone yet.”